


a rainbow of colours

by hoodiestrings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 2015 zarry, Alcohol, Drinking, Fighting, M/M, Reality, Zayn leaving the band, joe cummimgs, zarry - Freeform, zarry stylik
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24805774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoodiestrings/pseuds/hoodiestrings
Summary: "It was Zayn," Harry tells him a couple minutes later, and his hands are shaky but his voice is shakier. He is not drunk, rather dangling on the edge of it. Joe couldn't decide whether he is an emotional drunk or an honest drunk. Both, perhaps.Joe shifts, "Do you really want to tell this to a stranger —"But Harry cuts him off, "Please. No one ever listens. Please?"And so he listens.( or the one where Zayn and Harry fight in Bangkok )
Relationships: Zayn Malik/Harry Styles
Comments: 2
Kudos: 52





	a rainbow of colours

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by joe's tweets. not meant to harm anyone. this fic is just for fun and entertainment purposes. i do NOT claim whatever happened in this fic is true.
> 
> wattpad link : https://my.w.tt/Lpmk4Wc8A7

Brady introduces him to Harry Styles. Joe doesn't know who he is. Well, that's not entirely true. He  _ has  _ heard his name tossed around sometimes (mostly about his looks, and that's a pity because he is a singer) and he  _ does  _ know who One Direction is, even seen their picture on hundreds of billboards. But if someone asked Joe to tell them apart, he couldn't; he knows the names, but he doesn't know who is who. 

Under the flashing club lights, Harry's eyes look like a rainbow of colours. 

That's the first thing he notices, his eyes, and then he sees his warm face and wonders how many people have their hearts on their sleeves. Few, maybe, because in this world, it's a form of weakness. 

"Pleasure to meet you," Joe sticks out his hand. 

Harry takes it in his, shakes it and gives him a smile, "The pleasure's all mine."

They take shots together, him and Harry, after Brady excuses himself from them; something about another concert. Harry makes jokes and is very entertaining. But something's off. He seems tense, heartbroken, even, rough around the edges like the worn out pages of an ancient book. But Joe doesn't think it's his position to tell. It's his first time seeing his face and associating him as  _ Harry Styles,  _ after all.

What he does know is that Harry is sweet and kind and charming. He makes harmless and, frankly, unfunny jokes, but Joe laughs anyways because he is in awe (a little bit). He has met many celebrities, thanks to Brady, and some have their heads so up the clouds they have forgotten what it's like down with the grass. Not Harry, though. He is down to earth in a way that many people in this world aren't, let alone someone sitting on the top of fame. 

"Another?" Joe asks, eyebrows raised when Harry reaches for another glass.

Harry shrugs, "I'm so tired today, just want to let loose for a while."

And his voice seems strange, but his face looks stranger: foreign and lonely and somewhere else, entirely. 

They talk some more, about what it's like to travel around. Joe loves traveling, and Harry would love to roam the streets of some foreign country and just get lost. But he doesn't have the time, he says. Joe's tipsy, not drunk enough, but he has work tomorrow, late in the evening, and so he refuses another glass Harry offers him, and recalls the time he visited the Ajanta Caves in India. A very long time ago, it was, but Joe still remembers.

But Harry freezes mid-way through the story. Not the  _ shit I left my keys in my car  _ kind of freeze, but the  _ I am tired, please, stop, I don't want to remember  _ kind of freeze. 

"Aren't you going to take it?" Joe asks, once he realises the ringing of the phone, louder than even the club music.

Harry slips his hands inside the pocket and retrieves his phone. His face hardens when he sees the screen, in a way Joe didn't think he was capable of. He declines the call and switches his phone off. Joe thought he was angry, but then Harry looks up and his eyes are wet. 

_ Hurt,  _ Joe realises,  _ betrayed, more than anything.  _

Harry doesn't say who it was so Joe doesn't ask either. But Harry's alcohol consumption nearly doubles. 

"Mate, don't. Your head will kill you." 

Joe tries, but Harry just laughs. "YOLO," he says, and downs the shot.

There's a shift in Harry after that declined that Joe couldn't seem to understand.

"It was Zayn," Harry tells him a couple minutes later, and his hands are shaky but his voice is shakier. He is not drunk, rather dangling on the edge of it. Joe couldn't decide whether he is an emotional drunk or an honest drunk. Both, perhaps. 

Joe shifts, "Do you really want to tell this to a stranger —"

But Harry cuts him off, " _ Please.  _ No one ever listens."

And so he listens.

"It was Zayn," Harry sniffs "We fought, and I am mad at him. I stormed out and so he is calling."

He looks at Joe, and it takes Joe a minute to realise Harry is silently asking him to speak.

"Why did you both fight?"

"He is  _ leaving! _ " Harry cries "He told me he is just visiting his family for some time, but I  _ knew  _ something was wrong. I  _ know  _ who he is, you see. I know how he wants his tea and what are his pet peeves. I know all the bumps and the curves and the planes, and I know how he laughs with his tongue caught in his teeth. I  _ know  _ him, every single detail, every minor mark."

"He lied?" 

Harry lets out a laugh, a bitter one, "Yes. He isn't coming back. And so I left. I can't believe he would throw everything away like that. Do five years mean nothing to him? Ever since I saw him on the X Factor stage, I —"

Joe waits.

"I love him." Harry says after a few second, and he seems relieved to have finally said it out loud " _ Everything.  _ He wants his tea too sweet and he is afraid of the ocean but he  _ loves  _ the sea side. He has gentle hands and the gentlest heart, and he thinks about others before themselves. He likes driving with the windows down, but he closes them once Niall falls asleep. He smokes, but he is trying to quit because a fan told him to. He gives up his window seats to Liam and lets Louis win arguments and he holds me like I am his whole world."

Harry speaks around the lump in his throat, "He stayed back in our hotel when I was sick, and he told me stories about his childhood. He held me as I cried when we were voted off X Factor. My first tattoo — the 'A' for my mother — was drawn by him as well. And he held my hand through it and told me it would be fine. We sneaked through crew members and into every dark corner we could find, every closet and every empty dressing room, and it was just  _ us _ , you know. We created a world together with just me and him, and now he is just throwing it all  _ away _ ."

He is crying, proper crying with tears streaming down his face and his cheeks flushed red. Joe has never been good around crying people. He never knows what to do with his hands and what to say. So he just oats Harry's shoulders and hopes he could understand the silent ' _ I'm here _ '.

Harry wipes his eyes, "I'm sorry, what's the time?"

Joe brings out his phone, and lets out a low whistle. "It's 4 in the morning. God, where did time fly?"

"I'm sorry, I have to leave," Harry says, and stands up on wobbling feet "Thank you."

Joe smiles back, "It's no problem. And don't worry, I won't tell anyone."

Harry gives him a smile, albeit tired, "I know."

As he staggers away, Joe realises that he was wrong, and right at the same time. Harry Styles has his heart on his sleeve, but he also has a part of him locked up inside his rib cage. He thinks about the curly haired lad and his rainbow-coloured looking eyes and his poetic strewn, and smiles.

They'll be just fine.

_Four days later, the news come out and Joe realises he was wrong._

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed!


End file.
